


Michael

by Lennie09



Series: Time Dad is Team Dad [2]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: But they wont, Curious Legends, Frustrated Rip, Rip's room is a treasure trove, Team as Family, they need to stop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-04
Updated: 2017-06-04
Packaged: 2018-11-08 17:45:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11086713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lennie09/pseuds/Lennie09
Summary: The Legends are back at it again searching through their co-captain Rip's room. This time it's a knife and an old photograph.Frustrated Rip ensues.





	Michael

**Author's Note:**

> I suggest reading my last work. It's not required but It'll probably help in understanding what is happening

_London 1875_

Michael. That’s the only thing he knew about himself, his name. The boy had vague memories of parents, but they faded just as quickly as the weather. It was cold, and hot, he was scared. He stole an expensive looking bracelet from some noble, but the coppers were on his tail as he was noticed.

Michael was 5, he thought. He remembered his birthday being near Christmas Day, so he set it to that date. He could see shadows run into the alley that he was hiding in, he ran the opposite direction - scrambling over a wooden barricade. There was an abandoned wool factory up ahead - perfect to hide in. 

He grabbed a small piece of metal that he had on his person and picked the rusted lock. Closing the door behind him he ran into the middle of the factory, well he would've if he hadn’t ran into something seemingly invisible. Surprised, the boy ran his hands over the invisible object, finding that the walls caved into an entrance that showed an inside that was not invisible.

The room of rooms was strange, made completely out of what seemed like a very polished and clean silver metal. He heard a voice further into the strange place that sounded like it was coming nearer to where he was. A shadow reflected on the floor as he sprinted into a small alcove. The shadow came nearer and he scrambled to pull his treasured knife out of a pocket. 

The man came into view. He was wearing strange clothes and seemed amused at the young, dirty and malnourished boy holding a small knife out, trying to be threatening. The smile fell as quickly as it appeared as he grabbed the boy by his clothes and pulled him up so he was standing. “What is your name?” he harshly asked.

The boy in his fright dropped the knife and sputtered “Michael. I’m sorry sir, I didn’t mean to break in, I was just afraid and looking for a place to hide” As he was speaking he subtly tried to reach down and grab his knife. The other man noticed and kicked it away.

“Nice try, but I know a liar when I see one.” Michael grimaced, face hardening. The man spoke again, seemingly to the ceiling this time. “Rose. Would there be any consequences to the timeline if I took ‘Michael’ with me?”

“No Captain Druce.”

“Well then kid, you’re coming with me”

Michael looked surprised. “Where are you going?”

“The future”

_The Waverider, Time Vortex_

Rip sighed as he noticed the team in his room. Again. Seriously do these people have no regard for personal privacy. He doesn’t go searching in the others’ rooms, so why should they?

Begrudgingly he walks in, expecting a repeat of the ‘musical’ situation. What he didn’t expect is for all of them to be sitting on his bed. Holding a knife and an old photo, the two things he kept from his old life in the 1870’s, something the Time Masters didn’t exactly approve. 

“I’m expecting you to ask me why I have these two things correct?”

The team looked at him expectantly. 

“Well, the Time Masters collect recruits from all over the time stream. I, was picked up in 1875 London. These were the two things I kept on my person. The photo is of who I assumed my parents were.”

“Wait a second. Your from the 19th century?” Mick asked.

“Yes, but only for five years. Not nearly enough to make a difference. I consider myself from the 22nd century as that is when I spent most of my life.” Rip said, annoyance seeping into his voice.

“What’s the 1800’s like?” Nate added.

“Dirty, very. You were either rich or starving, and no one cared if you were a young kid sleeping on the streets. That knife is how I managed to feed myself” Jax looked like he was about to say something. “-not, in a cannibalistic way mind you.”

Sare responded “It explains why your younger self’s accent was so strong.”

“Yes, Sara. Now can you guys stop searching my room every three seconds. There is this concept called ‘personal privacy,’ you may have heard of it.”

The team just smiled.

Rip practically face-palmed.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. I headcanon Rip being from the 19th century. Seriously his younger self's accent was so strong and seemed to be the typical homeless orphan from the 1800's. Soooo, he is.


End file.
